


Of Same Blood

by moroder



Series: Of Broken Hearts and Fallen Stars [3]
Category: Beholder (Video Game)
Genre: Drama, Established Relationship, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22805728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moroder/pseuds/moroder
Summary: Alloisius finds out about being seriously ill and tries to make the right choice.
Relationships: Alloisius Shpak/Bastian Walner
Series: Of Broken Hearts and Fallen Stars [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631920
Kudos: 1





	Of Same Blood

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was supposed to have an angsty ending like "Sometime Around Midnight"  
> but uh well, not this time  
> they deserve happiness... they can have happiness

It is widely believed that physicians do not suffer from diseases as much as other citizens. Say, they know more and have a bigger chance to receive proper treatment. They also wouldn’t heal themselves to death, right? Official stats, however, did not mention how many doctors passed away in process of healing themselves for a reason other than lack of professional knowledge.

Being a man of said profession, close to human suffering, Alloisius Shpak wasn’t really worried about his life. Severe illnesses that took lives of his friends have passed him by, and he considered that some luck. He assumed that luck would accompany him till the very moment when fate would send him a disease that equaled all those he evaded. Then, he thought, he would break. Time passed, though, bringing no plague and death.

The first symptoms came unexpectedly. In the institute, Shpak left to wash his hands – quite a normal thing to do, except that he felt nauseous as soon as he turned on the water tap. He didn’t even manage to blame the local canteen for their food quality as he threw up. It wouldn’t have become something out of ordinary if he hadn’t seen, to his horror, blood streaming down the sink, washed away by water.

He glanced at the mirror above the sink and saw his assistant. And also himself with a bloody chin. Both his and the assistant’s faces froze in shock. Alloisius wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, turned around, only managed to say “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be alright!” and lost consciousness.

He came to his senses way later, lying in a hospital room, not the tiled bathroom floor or his bed at home. At first Shpak couldn’t understand anything and tried to remember what was the drill that put him here. Then, the memory of a bloody sink came up in his mind.

It was honestly the first time in his life that Alloisius became worried about his health. He had never lost blood in such an eccentric way before, and the fact that he was in a hospital didn’t mean anything good. As he nervously tried to recall what could bloody vomit signal about, a familiar person showed up in the room – Dr Vien Mainer.

Shpak was happy to see him. Of all doctors, he would give his life in Mainer’s hands with no hesitation. The doctor put a chair to his bed and sat down, looking a bit perplexed. He told Shpak that they couldn’t come up with a precise diagnosis after examining him. They decided to try digestive infections as a version. Then Mainer asked his colleague about his condition, didn’t find out anything useful, shook his head and left.

Several hours later, Alloisius was already on his way to the pharmacy, and then to Krushvice, 6. According to how long he’d been in the hospital lying unconscious, he hadn’t been home for two days straight. Someone was most likely worried about him! He was lucky to meet Bastian at the same time that he approached the house; Walner walked, staring at his feet, and saw the doctor at the very entrance. Alloisius put his hands aside for a hug, but the other man grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the house. Only behind door number two, he allowed himself to stop and hug the surgeon.

“I thought you've left and haven't told me,” he muttered, face in Al’s vest. “Long operation this time?”

“No, not really… Just haven’t made it home yesterday. It’s all right, it’s fine.” Alloisius stroked his back, not really believing his own words. Bastian stepped back and saw the paychecks in his hand.

“You bought something?”

“Yeah, I… visited a store on the way home.”

Walner looked satisfied with his answer and didn’t continue asking; it was obvious that he was tired and not very interested in the topic. Conversely, Alloisius regretted not telling him the truth at once. Despite his doubts, he still kept it a secret; his intestinal infections didn’t need to be a public domain, and he’d get rid of it without affecting people who cared about him.

* * *

Three weeks have passed in a single day. Shpak was taking all medicine as prescribed and regularly reported his condition to Mainer. The further his treatment went, the more baffled the doctor became week after week; at the last visit he sat Alloisius down in front of himself and confessed that he was utterly confused. The medicine was supposed to get rid of assumed infection in a couple of weeks, but there was no result in case of Shpak: he was slowly losing his appetite, he felt weak each time after eating, and headaches became his best friend. He considered the last symptom to be a consequence of hardworking and joked about his head and heart always bleeding for his patients. However, Vien Mainer refused to take it as a joke and asked to tell him what other wrongs in his condition Alloisius considered to be the norm. He confessed that apart from having headaches his knees and shoulders suffered from minor pain, a sign of getting older, as he thought. There also was sudden nosebleed that he thought to be another consequence of overworking. Bastian suffered from similar bleeding stuff sometimes, but he was still safe and well…

Mainer banged his hand on the table, stood up and demanded Shpak to provide a new blood sample tomorrow morning. Something was totally wrong here, he thought. Alloisius himself also began to doubt whether it really was just a usual disease. The treatment has been dragged on for quite a while, and he began suspecting that they were going on a wild goose chase with his diagnosis.

At home, the pain in his shoulders came back and slowly became unbearable. As he got used to it before, the doctor was trying to convince himself that it was nothing to worry about. Probably overreacting because of bad weather and getting too old for this. As he was looking for a hot-water bottle in his closet, teeth clenched from pain, someone knocked on his door: it was a girl from the room above him, holding a heavy knitted blanket. When he asked how she’d guessed that he needed heat, as he hadn’t told anyone, she shrugged and said that the fifth flat tenant was asking around the whole house for something warm to pass to flat number two.

Alloisius thanked her warmly. Closing the door, he thought that he needed to return the favor to both the girl and Bastian’s kindness. Later. He wrapped himself in the blanket as tight as he could and curled up like a cat on his bed. Fetal position often helped him in reducing pain and bad moods, so maybe it was worth a try.

To distract himself from pain and his health problems, he decided to remember something pleasant throughout the last months. Like the time he saw starry pajamas in the store and bought it without a second thought, then spending days to find out Bastian’s birth date. And it came so unexpectedly that Alloisius didn’t find the time to pack the present and had to give it with just a stack of best wishes. Walner was thrilled nevertheless. He said that the last time someone gave him a gift so close to his hobbies was back in his childhood. They also tried to pick a sport together, something they both have not tried yet but both wanted to. They chose skating, but when they both bought skates for it, spring already had come. So they came to the rink, saw the ice melting and went back home, strangely happy and joking about how they needed to choose another sport – a summer one that they would get their hands onto before the first snow.

Alloisius turned over and realized why he wasn’t asleep yet. Pain in his shoulders didn’t go away, and the blanket wasn’t helping. Hugging the pillows and trying to detach himself, Shpak set himself a reminder for morning to buy some ibuprofen on his way to the institute.

* * *

The next day was just like the others for him except his never-ending anxiety. He gave the blood sample for examination that morning and waited agonizingly for its results; the labs promised to run it ahead of others and have it ready at least by the end of day.

At the lunch hour, Alloisius was called to Mainer’s office. Sitting in a chair by the closed door, he felt like a guilty student in front of the principal’s office; his knees also started acting up again. He took a pill of ibuprofen after taking the blood sample, but it was such a long time ago that pain was slowly coming back for him. It was also too late to take the pills now, as Dr Mainer was already heading towards him, holding a folder. He looked very serious.

Inside the office, he opened the folder, put it down on the table and extracted a single sheet of paper. Judging by its quality, the sample examination results. Shpak smiled, a little nervous and still hoping that his blood was fine and the problem was about the medicine’s poor quality. Vien Mainer gave him the paper in silence; looking through various numbers of blood cells, Alloisius glanced at the bottom where they usually wrote diseases detected by blood test.

 _Leukemia_ , the conclusion read. That’s why Vien didn’t say it out loud: he just couldn’t bring himself to sentence his best friend like this.

“Must’ve messed up previous samples,” he said grimly. “Could’ve found it out earlier. I’ll strangle the one who made this mistake with my own hands…”

He kept muttering something angry, but Shpak didn’t register it, deafened by the sudden diagnosis that literally sentenced him to painful death. He felt a tide rising in his stomach again; Mainer shoved a bucket for used cotton into his hands, just in time. Without looking down, Alloisius knew he was vomiting blood again.

Vien told him about treating leukemia at the homeland. It wasn’t particularly successful, one had to say. It required a serious chemotherapy that would cost a lot by both money and health; then, the bone marrow transplant was almost always the best solution, but finding someone matching to donate would require insane luck. Surviving was also quite hard, followed by a long rehabilitation, especially difficult to get through if he were to do it on his own. At the end of Vien’s speech, the pain in Shpak’s knees became impossible, and he wailed, thinking how he’d lost his face completely. Mainer advised him to stock up on painkillers right now and urged him to think about chemotherapy. He also gave him a sick leave and let him go home. As they said goodbye, Alloisius felt like Mainer was shaking hands with a dead man.

The road home was a blur. He visited the bank and asked for a finance report. According to his account status, his money was quite enough for chemo and perhaps even the transplant… but was it even worth it if finding a donor was nearly impossible? Mainer told him that milder cases could be cured with chemotherapy, but how would they know it in advance? Was it worth curing an illness that usually required people to buy coffins as soon as they found out and their dear ones to consider euthanasia for the sick?..

Good grief, he forgot about Bastian. How was he supposed to tell his loved one that he was terminally ill and wasn’t even sure whether he should live for another day? His head was buzzing, not just because of thinking but also because of headache that came back.

The last time he saw Walner was two days ago. He told Alloisius that he was leaving for the nearby town with his class for some patriotic program for schoolchildren. After he was fired from the factory, Bastian was given a job as a drafting teacher and a class teacher at once in one of central schools; Walner sometimes complained how being a class teacher was an unusual and nervous occupation for him, but usually he admitted that it was better for him than the top secret blueprints. Not all children liked drafting, not all of them accepted his authority as a teacher, but there was no other job for him so far. He also spent less time in school than working in factory.

Alloisius counted the days in his head and figured that Bastian would be back in four days. He had the time to think it through, especially since he was on a sick leave for three days straight.

Since his very childhood, Shpak was hiding problems that were worth talking about. He didn’t want to disappoint his mother for whom he was the only joy left in life. So it turned out that he kept all trouble and bitterness inside, creating an illusion of his life being entirely positive. His mother died more than twenty years ago, and he was still holding onto the habit of keeping his negative sides from people around him – especially those dearest to him. When some conflicts took place in the institute, he kept stubborn silence in front of Bastian, but he was still finding out; no matter how often he asked Alloisius to be honest and sincere about his problems, the doctor couldn’t retrain himself to speak up.

He spent his whole sick leave at home, drowning in thoughts, mostly unpleasant. From wasting additional money to find a donor down to wondering how much he would spend on the strongest painkillers. Shpak could only think of morphine, but it was distributed only to hospitals, strictly limited, and creating and storing drugs was still prohibited. Furthermore, if he was going to take painkillers in this fashion, he would become addicted to them very quickly, and addiction was one of his worst nightmares. In the current situation, however, they seemed to have begun manifesting into life.

On the fourth day, he finally had to leave the house. After even a short sick leave, he was left completely disorganized: headache kept drilling him, his whole body felt fragile, and the pain in joints had spread further, making every movement agonizing. Ibuprofen lessened his suffering, but it only helped so much that he could move fast enough and keep himself from whining.

The first person Alloisius met in the institute was his assistant. He was very worried and told him emotionally about something horrible, but the doctor couldn’t understand a lot. A school bus, casualties… someone was brought here. Only after Shpak put on a lab coat, the assistant came to his senses and constructed a better story to tell. A school bus overturned on the way back to Helmer, the driver fell asleep while driving. Some children fell victim to it, someone from the bus was brought here in critical condition, and they had to operate him as soon as possible.

Alloisius froze, hearing about casualties and remembering that Walner was supposed to come back to Helmer with his class today. He tried to ask the assistant about adults in the bus but found out nothing useful, so he just hoped their patient to be a child.

Putting his hair under the sterile hat, Shpak thought that in his condition operating someone was a tremendous risk for both him and the patient. Everyone had their medical errors but… Before his thoughts took a grim turn, his assistant distracted him, telling that the patient was ready for operating and currently in serious but stable condition. A child, not an adult. It was supposed to calm Shpak down – it wasn’t Walner after all – but he still felt uneasy. What if a kid dies because of his self-sacrificing…

No. He had to concentrate on the following hours, not the worst case scenario. Alloisius took a bottle out of his pocket, glanced at the last three pills inside and swallowed them in a single gulp without water. Looking forward to a better outcome, he pushed the doors to operating room, shoving the lingering pain in his shoulders deeper into subconscious.

* * *

“Al! Oh Leader, you’re home! I already gave up hope of getting here!”

Closing the door of second flat, Bastian dropped the backpack, kissed the doctor on the cheek and hugged him tightly. Alloisius didn’t show that it was quite painful for his shoulders and hugged him back, leaning against him with his cheek.

“Yeah, where else could I be… I’m glad your trip didn’t cause trouble.”

“Ooh, that’s a long shot. You won’t believe what I’ll tell you!”

He took off the coat hastily, hung it on a chair and sat down on it. Alloisius leaned on the table in front of him and crossed his arms.

“Was the event not good enough?”

“Oh, to hell with- I mean, it went as planned, nothing interesting. But our bus overturned as we were coming back to Helmer!”

“Wait, I was operating a child today who suffered in the same accident… Shahar, or something like that?”

“Must be Shewhard, it’s a boy from my class! I didn’t know they brought him to you. So how was he?”

“It went fine. He’s got a strong body, he’ll get well soon…” Shpak coughed violently, shaking from the jolts of pain in whole body. Walner tilted his head, watching.

“Are you alright?”

“What do you mean? I’m fine,” the doctor shrugged off.

“Your coughing doesn’t sound good. And… is it just me, or you’ve been losing weight for the last month…”

“Oh, well, I am a little more busy than usual lately, that’s true. But nothing out of ordinary, no worries! I’ll handle it. Better tell me, are you okay? You’re the one who got into a car accident!”

“Well… When the bus began skidding, I was pressed under the seats, and that’s what saved me. Only got a couple of cuts from broken glass. Born dead lucky, huh… I hope this luck won’t cost me anything awful in future.”

Bastian kept talking about children, the patriotic program and the driver who he was sure to never see alive again, and Shpak was silently watching him. Admiring, one could say. Indeed, Walner had no other signs of being in an accident other than a bandaged hand and plaster on his chin. Comparing to the child he operated on today, it was nothing.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Bastian was talking about his job without even a tint of despair in his voice. Alloisius remembered well all the evenings he spent with the former engineer, trying to show him that his life wasn’t over, that the bad streak would be over soon and a lot of incredible things were to happen. One most incredible thing must have been their simultaneous declaration of love to each other.

Shpak was amazed at how much their relationship had changed his dearest one. Of course, they kept discovering more things about each other as they went on, but he was absolutely sure that without him Bastian Walner would’ve never become who he was right now, and he could say the same thing about himself, too. They grew on each other so much, it almost physically hurt to part.

How was he supposed to tell Bastian that he was fatally ill? To cast a shadow over his current happiness streak, over his thoughts of being lucky to survive, with a message that his loved one withers day by day… If the news about Clara cheating on him were so devastating, how would he react this time?

“You’re somewhat quiet today. Thinking about that kid?”

Tiny chances for healing and even tinier ones for surviving afterwards. He’d better live his last days, taking painkillers and being supported by someone who truly loved him. Anyway, when he decides to tell Bastian about the illness, it will already erode Shpak enough to quit hesitating.

“Yes… I am. Can you make me some coffee, please?”

“Don’t you fall asleep after drinking coffee?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to stay awake,” Alloisius winked at him.

* * *

A month later, Mainer caught him in the institute corridor and talked to him like a friend for the first time since his diagnosis became evident.

“I honestly thought you were on a longer sick leave. Or that you left for good.”

“Who’s gonna support me if I leave, Vien…” Shpak shrugged. The doctor squinted.

“Keep working to prolong your agony? You don’t look like you’re doing chemo.”

“Now, now, what I’m doing is my own problem.”

“Hey… don’t push it too far. You’re a famous person, and the newspapers will be louder than thunder about you if they find out.”

“What do you mean?” Alloisius laughed, but Mainer pierced him with such an ice cold gaze that it made his smile fade quickly.

“You know perfectly what I mean. The fact you’re still working in this condition is a huge tolerance that I do because you’re dear to me. Do you understand?”

“Come on. I’m fine, really, I am.”

Shpak wanted to end the conversation like this and leave, but he staggered, and Mainer caught him.

“That’s what you mean by saying you’re fine? You’re barely standing… look at you, Al.”

“Happens to us all. I’m just tired from all this. Look, we all have to work, let’s get on to it…”

“I warned you. It won’t do you any good, mark my word.” Vien Mainer shook his head, walked around him and went further down the corridor.

The talk left a bad taste in Shpak’s soul, but it wasn’t worse than the stuff he lived on for the last two weeks. Right now, he felt a tide of frustration rising inside, a bitterness he couldn’t tolerate… heaven forbid someone would be unlucky to talk to him at the moment.

One day, the ache had reached his hands and fingers. It was something Alloisius couldn’t tolerate anymore; he was putting up with pain in other parts of his body, but hands were essential, they were his main instrument of work, and he couldn’t leave it like that. When no relatively safe dose of ibuprofen could provide him with workability, he realized it was the time for desperate measures.

A while ago, he had bought and since stored a small morphine vial – just in case, a single use wouldn’t lead to addiction. It was hard to inject the drug when your hands were a billion nerve endings, all hurting like hell. However, the feeling of blissful relaxation and salvation from pain were worth it. For the first time in what felt like forever, nothing hurt. Shpak was co-existing with pain for such a long time already that without it he felt drunk with bliss, it gave him so much hope for the best… He realized very quickly why morphine was so addictive.

One dose was enough to keep going for a whole day. Throughout that day, Alloisius felt so much better that almost everyone he talked to have noticed that he looked well rested and wished him to go on like this. The main thing was that Bastian who’s been concerned about his health for a long time already (even though he tried to convince him that he was alright) finally came to believe in his words. Walner’s peace of mind was one of the things that kept Shpak afloat, despite his terrible condition and constant awareness that he was dying. “Please just don’t let me pass away in his hands,” he thought almost every evening. For his smile and warm embrace he could endure the coldness of a needle in his veins and the addiction that kept approaching him by leaps.

* * *

“Al, just a minute, I’m…”

Bastian didn’t finish; he stopped at the doors with open mouth. And he had every right to.

The flat owner sat on the table, his right shirtsleeve rolled up above the elbow; as Walner entered the room, the doctor was injecting some medicine into his veins.

Quite a picture it was. As Bastian tried to come up with words that wouldn’t violate the swearing amendment, Shpak finished the procedure, put the syringe away and took a deep breath.

“Well, come in. It’s going to take longer than a minute, though.”

“Alloisius Shpak, are you… taking drugs?!”

Walner darted off to him, but they both knew he couldn’t change anything. Morphine was already taking effect, and Shpak closed his eyes blissfully, drowning in absence of pain.

“Can you… can you listen while I’m talking to you? Or are you already out there, unreachable, huh?!”

“Bastian, please… wait a minute.”

“You mean, wait until you snap out of it?”

He spoke in such a tone that Alloisius thought with closed eyes that he was going to cry. With some willpower, he opened his eyes and looked at Walner. He was right.

What should he do now? Bastian was correct about him, as he was taking morphine for several weeks already and could consider himself addicted. He could settle for it, but he also could turn over the coin and show it. Do something he was supposed to do long ago. It’s not going to be worse, Alloisius thought, taking the belt off his hand and rolling the shirtsleeve back down.

“Oh, my sunshine, I have a lot to tell you. It will be awful and unpleasant, I tried to keep it down for quite some time… but if it must be, I can’t leave you in the dark anymore.”

He got off the table and made a step towards Walner, seeing how he obviously tried to suppress the wish to step back. Touching his face gently, the doctor looked him in the eyes and said:

“I have leukemia.”

These three words were enough to turn irritation and displeasure in Bastian’s figure into astonishment and anxiety. His eyes went even more round with shock; he looked at his loved one, unable to say a single word.

“First symptoms came two months ago. We lost several weeks treating the wrong disease because of a faulty blood test… and then I found out what the real diagnosis was.”

“B-but… what about… treatment… and money…”

“There is a procedure that could save my life, but it required a blood cells donation. A relative would be the best choice, but I have no one left, and looking for a match among random people… it’s insane.”

“And what… have you been doing since? How do you live with it?”

“My whole body hurts. I can’t eat, I barely digest what I eat, I’m tired all the time. Vomiting blood sometimes… At first, I took ibuprofen, and when it ceased to take effect, I switched to morphine. So, as a matter of fact, I have indeed started taking drugs. Not for euphoria, but to be able to hold a scalpel… or at least a mug of tea.”

“God, why haven’t you told me about it back then?!”

Nice question, Shpak thought, looking at Bastian from above. His nature started to come up with excuses to cover up negative side of everything for a dear man… and time has come to push away this despicable habit.

“Because I thought it would destroy you.”

“W… what?”

“It’s very hard to cure leukemia in our country. Such diagnosis is a death sentence. I’ve considered myself dead ever since the moment I found it out. And you… I can still feel your weight in my hands from the time we saved you from hanging! You have only started to live and see the point of life, and here I come and say: _darling, I might be dying!”_

_“Idiot!”_

Bastian slapped his face so hard it left his ears ringing. As Alloisius touched his bruised cheek, shocked deeply, his partner was breathing hard to calm down and keep himself from landing another hit.

“Listen to what you say! Hiding a deadly illness to keep me from worrying? Are you out of your mind?!”

“But…”

“You think that if you pass away unexpectedly, I will hurt less?! By no means!”

“Basti, I… _oh, hell…_ ”

He sobbed, still pressing a hand to his cheek, and tried to regain his composure, but it was too late; he couldn’t see a thing behind the tears. Walner sighed gravely, came closer to him and put Shpak’s head on his shoulder, letting him cry it out.

“Al… listen to me,” he spoke, stroking the doctor’s shoulder, “I love you more than anything. And I only want you to be happy and well. You pulled me out of shadows, out of the deepest pit… if not for you, I’d hang myself again on the very next day. Do you really think I would leave you upon finding out about your disease?”

“N-no, I… I don’t know what I was t-thinking…”

“Shh, it’s okay. I won’t abandon you, whatever happens. How could I ever leave you?.. I see no color in life without you, Al. You’re all I have left. Why would you ever give up on yourself like this?”

“B-because I know… how things are here.”

“You mean in our country, but did you hear anything about medicine abroad? Their climate is also better.”

“B-but… it’s against the rules…”

“Listen, my love.” Bastian tore Alloisius off himself and looked him straight in his teary blue eyes. “All is fair for saving a life. A lot of things can be achieved with money. Even emigrating.”

He stepped back from Shpak and retrieved a small notebook out of his jacket pocket.

“So, currently I’ve got forty-seven thousand dollars. Quite a lot already, but we need tickets for two… How much do you have now?”

“I don’t remember… I really don’t. There’s a bank statement in a folder on the table, but it’s at least one month old, and I’ve wasted about one third of it on morphine…”

Checking out the said paper, Walner suppressed a wish to slap his beloved once more.

“It’s a _fortune_ here! Even without one third that you’ve spent… it’s enough not only for emigrating but your whole treatment as well!”

“You think?..”

“Look, even if it won’t cover it all… I’ve got a degree in engineering, I’ll find a job in my field, oh, whatever job I can. We’ll make it.”

He looked up from the papers and glanced at Alloisius. Pale, undernourished, reddish eyes… but for the first time in these two months, a glimpse of faith flashed in his gaze. It only took time and action to set his fire ablaze.

* * *

The customs control zone was surprisingly empty. Despite this being Bastian’s first time here, he always thought the place to be more crowded… at least the border control officer that he made a deal with talked about his previous place of working in a similar fashion. In any case, considering how much they paid for emigrating, all arrangements must’ve been made already, so he tried to calm down and look natural.

Calming down was a harder thing to do, not just because of a single suitcase – they had to leave a lot of things behind – but also because of Alloisius who could barely stand and leaned against him, tired and in pain. He apologized a thousand times before and after that about having to bother Walner with both the luggage and himself… but Bastian cared little about all the troubles. The main thing was to make it through safely.

Their papers were quick to be checked. Walner had been eyeing the border officer for the whole time he was looking through the documents; he chuckled silently, seeing the officer’s face as he glanced at Alloisius. After all, he was somewhat famous, even got his picture in the papers a couple of times. However, it issued no questions, as the documents went back to Bastian’s pockets, and they went through the checkpoint.

“Do you have to drag him all the way abroad… He’ll die on the way, you know.”

Hearing a husky voice behind him, Bastian looked up. It was one of the border guards, and the engineer sent him such a destroying glare that the man turned around, falling silent.

“He’s right,” Alloisius spoke in nearly a whisper as they went on to the foreign country’s checkpoint.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Walner hissed, getting a better grip on the suitcase. “You’ll be fine.”

* * *

Saying goodbye to the guard by the last checkpoint, he finally got out on the streets and glanced at the watch. Half past seven, and so much to be done… Sitting in the bus, he watched the autumn sun slowly going down and wondered where he should go next. He had a student at eight, but it only took ten minutes to get there, and there was so much time left… At the destination point, he visited a small local store and bought some chocolate candy - the only place where he could find this exact brand.

Two months ago, they stepped into a foreign country, shattered and restless, but having some money and hope for the best. Shpak had been almost immediately left in the hospital, despite all his reassuring that he was feeling good enough to bear with condition for a bit longer and make sure Walner finds himself a place to stay. As they parted, Bastian promised to visit every day no matter what happens. A lot of things happened, to be honest. At first he had to look for a flat – for just one, as Alloisius wouldn’t have made it home for a long time; at the same day, he started looking for a job. The borderline city had a core enterprise that looked pretty much like his former factory place, so it was his first point of interest, although he low-key doubted he was going to be accepted. His doubts were half true: despite his high qualification, he was still a newcomer in the country, so his position was less stationary than drafting. It was already way more than he expected, so he agreed at once. At the end, he could always show he can do better, as time passed.

Living alone was a challenge now. Even though he visited Alloisius every day, he already got used to spending any quiet evening with him at home, talking about anything, scientific or not. It wasn’t the case with the hospital visits, as they were strictly time-limited to let the patient rest enough. Once upon a time, a nurse found Bastian asleep on a chair by the bed, and since then for the sake of his own health he was prohibited to visit after a specific hour. He understood the measures – after all, he wasn’t a relative or a spouse by documents, so he had no rights to demand any favors. The nurses, however, have long ago uncovered their relationship, and one of them even asked him secretly whether they were going to become officially related after this is over.

They started the chemo immediately. The money brought from homeland was indeed enough for both hospital care and treatment, although it was unknown whether it would be enough for a permanent cure. That’s why Bastian began thinking of an extra income. Here’s where his teaching experience came in handy: his colleague once complained to him that his son wanted to become an engineer but had trouble understanding technical subjects, especially drafting and math. Walner offered help for a moderate price – not much, but it was still some money. Since then, thrice a week, he visited the boy and taught him for an hour at the evenings. Slowly but steadily, it helped him build a small fortune.

This day, he only managed to get to the hospital at twenty past nine; his time limit was ten, so he was in a hurry. As always, Alloisius was very excited to see him – just like a dog that was left home alone for the whole day.

“Ah, Bastian, my hair started to fall out, can you imagine?” He pointed at his temple, and Walner thought that without pointing he wouldn’t have guessed it had a hair loss. “I’m already as pale and bony as death, and now I'll be bald, and you’ll stop loving me for sure…”

His voice sounded cheerful, but his face was so sorrowful that Bastian took it seriously. He moved a chair to his bed and sat down, holding the bag on his knees.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Whatever you look like, you’re alive. And I’ll love you no matter how you look, because I love you for what’s in here,” he put a hand on Shpak’s chest, and he winced a little. “Sorry, didn’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m fine, just a bit weak… Tell me what you did today. You had a student today, am I correct?”

Bastian told him almost the same things every day. His job was quite monotonous, and Alloisius knew school math well enough. But he kept listening carefully, sometimes putting in some jokes and admiring his loved one’s devotion to work. No spare time at all.

Forty minutes have passed like ten. As usual, they reluctantly said goodbye, promising to see each other next day. At the doors, a handsome white-haired man waved him over; it was the attending physician.

“Good evening, Walner… You’re late today.”

“Happens sometimes. What did you want to say, something happened?”

“Sort of. You of course know that we’re running the third course of chemotherapy for your companion.”

“Yes… did the price change? It costs more now?”

“No, it’s not the case. We talked over the situation with my colleagues and decided that bone marrow transplant would be the best solution. It’s a risky procedure, it required blood donation, and the rehabilitation is quite long… but it saves lives.”

“Oh, it’s… it’s quite expensive, right?”

“It is. But I’ve got something to discuss with you privately about that. Come with me.”

Bastian had only been in Dr Yadel’s office a couple of times, and usually it was about signing papers for chemotherapy. If the doctor wanted him here, it must’ve really been a private matter.

“So what I wanted to talk about… Alloisius Shpak must’ve been a famous person in the country you came from?”

“Why do you ask?” Walner bristled up. Damn, if only their homeland could just leave them alone…

“Your country’s papers paint him as a talented heart surgeon and a professional. We really need such people… who doesn’t, actually. Everybody needs professionals.”

“But he can’t even get out of bed now.”

“Wait, Bastian, let me finish. We can search for a donor and run the transplant at the state’s expense. But only if Dr Shpak agrees to work with us after recovery.”

It was an odd question. On one hand, deciding something for a person wasn’t the best; on the other hand, he couldn’t imagine Alloisius living on without his profession, the one he dedicated his whole life to, going on even while dying from leukemia.

“Why don’t you tell him about that? Why me?”

“I need someone who’s close to him to look at the situation. You’re fully adequate and healthy, and he’s not quite… capable right now, if I might say.”

Bastian sighed and looked at Yadel again.

“You know… I can’t fully speak for him but… back there, at our homeland, Shpak was devoted to his work in his fullest and not only because of money or a big name. He lived by his profession and cared about all of his patients. I think he won’t hesitate to do the same here.”

“Oh, that’s great, that’s just wonderful! Thank you for telling me.” Yadel lit up. “Tomorrow I’ll talk to him in person, and if it’s really how you’re telling me, we’ll do just fine.”

“What about… blood donation? Shpak told me it’s nearly impossible to find a match.”

“It’s impossible when the database is small or doesn’t exist at all. We’ve got a nice database and we’ll start searching tomorrow. Sure, the best possible match would be his relative, but if he had one, you would’ve probably brought them along, too?”

“Yeah… that’s right,” Walner confirmed gravely. “And can I… can I help? Donate my cells too, I mean.”

“Sure thing, your data will be added to the registry. There’s a small probability that your bone marrow will be a match, and if it is, Alloisius will be in sheer luck. Let’s hope for the best here.”

In parting, Dr Yadel shook Bastian’s hand in a very long and sincere way. Passing by Shpak’s room, he saw through the open door that the patient was already asleep, and a nurse was writing down something on her pad by his bed. Already at home, Walner realized that he forgot to leave Alloisius’ favorite sweets for him, but he decided to bring them the next day along with good news about operation.

* * *

He opened the piano lid and brushed the dust off the black keys. It’s been just a week without playing, and they already became dusty.

Playing a piano became a new phase of life for him. When he was finally able to relax a bit and stop working for all his free time, he thought about a hobby – something he wanted to do back in childhood but had no time. He chose music.

It was very lonely without Shpak. Spending weekend evenings in an empty flat, he slowly pushed himself to the instrument; the piano had been in the flat ever since he’d moved in – some previous tenant had bought it and failed to take it after moving out. It was a high quality piano, finely tuned, with a nice heavy set of keys that creaked slightly upon pressing. When he sat down at the instrument, he would’ve never thought that he would actually start doing music seriously – just to remember a couple of tunes his old friend played. He realized quite soon that he needed at least some books on music theory and piano sheets for beginners.

The young man he’d been teaching at evenings had already graduated from the university and shared his favorite music sheets with him from time to time. Back in tenth grade, he played a lyrical piece for his mentor, and it had such a deep effect that he flared up with a wish to learn and play it himself. A long time ago, fiddling with blueprints and cursing his position, he would’ve never thought himself to find peace in art and give in to its beauty.

He moved the chair, sat down at the piano and put his hands on the keys. The first notes came alive in his head; he often played this piece when he felt melancholic and kind of homesick. After a few years of practice, playing the keyboard became more rewarding, he felt the smoothness and flow of music that he tried so hard to recreate. Polyphony sang under his hands, sliding across the keyboard like a brush on a canvas, and music painted him a picture.

The picture of him sitting in the flat alone, after he’d left Shpak in the hospital and found himself a place; how he let the surroundings fall down on him, let his thoughts drown him in their thickness. They were all alone in a foreign country, and before they’ve crossed the border, he was a lot more optimistic in his expectations. The problems came closer as they’ve stepped over the threshold. He probably felt the same when his wife left him, and he lost his job. However, unlike the events of the past, he didn’t want to leave this world this time. On the contrary, he came here to live on – and not alone.

A hand gently fell on his shoulder. At first he was being startled by the gesture, but he got used to it by now and wasn’t flinching. At the end, it could only be one person.

“Playing that piece again?”

“Yes… trying to warm up a little.”

“You don’t warm up on things like this. Say, you’re moping again?”

“Nothing gets past you. It’s just… my head’s a bit in the past.”

“Ah, I understand. Please go on.”

The palm disappeared from his shoulder, and he knew, not even turning around, that the man behind his back sat in the chair to listen to music. The piece was short; as he finished, he closed the lid and stood up.

“Oh, you won’t play anything else?”

“Don’t want to wear you out with all this. It’s getting late…”

“Come on. I’m fifty-five, not ninety-five!”

He smiled and leaned into the man’s chest, the one he woke up next to for six years already. He heard his heart beating, felt the warmness of his skin, not as pale as it was before when he had to claw his life out of death’s hands.

Sometimes, as he touched his loved one, Bastian couldn’t believe that it was happening. He wondered what if he accidentally opened his eyes and there would be no one, and he would still be alone in a cold flat on Krushvice, 6, alone, old and going moldy. Alloisius must have felt these rushes of anxiety in him, as he kept reminding him that he wouldn’t go anywhere. If they managed to overcome leukemia, nothing else could ever challenge them as long as they were together.

There were a lot of moments when Walner thought the end was near. When he gave a bone marrow sample and felt sick for slightly longer than promised; when the results of their sample compability with Alloisius required more time to analyze; when Al fell into a fever during the final chemotherapy that was supposed to completely destroy his bone marrow before transplant took place… But all of this was instantly overshadowed by later success: they found out that Bastian was an ideal donation candidate for Alloisius, as perfect as anyone not related to him could be.

One could say they now shared the same blood.

“Are you sure you’re not tired?”

“Bastian… are you going to ask me about that till the end of my life?”

“I am.”

“Thank you,” he kissed him softly on the forehead.

“You know, after you concealed your illness…”

“I won’t do that anymore. I was wrong.”

Even after rehabilitation and promises that leukemia was completely gone for him now, Alloisius looked a lot different from his past self. Most of his hair remained intact, and those that grew back even was the same color, but he lost a lot of weight, became significantly weaker and suffered from tremor for the first couple of months; he was afraid to even hold a mug of tea, to say nothing about a scalpel. However, a set of prescribed medicine, healthy lifestyle and support of beloved one were collectively doing miracles. Ten months after the transplant he was able to run the first operation – not the most complex his surgeon talent was good for, but laborious enough to meet the hopes of people in the medical institute. Since he came back to his profession, he was literally blooming like a flower that was brought back to life after frostbite with intensive care. Nothing darkened his joy, neither light weakness after taking walks, nor the pills he had to take for several years.

“I thought about something in my spare time.”

“What was it?”

“I tried to understand who’s going to change his last name in case we get married officially.”

“ _Oh no,_ Al…”

“Don’t make a face, it’s a serious issue!”

“It is most serious, yes.”

“So I gave it a thought – and I think your last name sounds nice along with my first name. Alloisius Walner… On the other hand, your name sounds great with my last name as well!”

“Let’s just keep our last names then. Getting a passport stamped is easier than making a new one.”

“Maybe you’re right… but what about tradition, about something we share?”

“You know what we share?” Bastian pointed a finger at his chest. “My stem cells.”

Before Shpak could protest anyhow, the other man pulled him closer and kissed him on the lips, destroying his resistance instantly.

**Author's Note:**

> Bastian was playing one of Samuel Maykapar's pieces, as i was playing one in musical school myself  
> i got to read some old piano sheet a month ago and so the headcanon about Bastian playing the piano was born


End file.
